


Never Have I Ever...

by Azuras_Wisdom



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age II
Genre: (mentioned) - Freeform, Confessions, Drinking, Drunken Confessions, Feelings, Friends to Lovers, Gambling, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, Mage Hawke - Freeform, Past Sexual Abuse, Self-Doubt, Slavery, fenhawke - Freeform, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 23:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10707288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azuras_Wisdom/pseuds/Azuras_Wisdom
Summary: Fenris angst-ing about whether or not Hawke likes him... **spoiler alert: he totally does ;)**





	Never Have I Ever...

Fenris paced along the empty halls of the abandoned mansion, feeling the cold stone against the soles of his feet. The place had never felt safe, not once in the three years he had lived in it. Perhaps _lived_ wasn’t exactly the right word… survived – he survived in the mansion, nothing more. One day, if he ever managed to truly be free of Danarius, he could join a Dalish clan. The Dalish were truly the freest of elves, and he could find a place among them; Merill had suggested it to him once, and, despite her blatant stupidity when it came to blood magic, Fenris could admit the idea was tempting.

Yet, he stayed in the mansion. With its cold, dark, empty halls, broken crates, and an infestation of spiders; there wasn’t any logical reason for Fenris to continue to reside in it when Danarius clearly had no intention of ever coming back. He was quite aware that it was a lonely existence, squatting in an abandoned slaver’s den; waiting for the return of his former master so that he could have the opportunity to remove him of his unfeeling heart.

So yes, the mansion was very unpleasant, and Fenris couldn’t really justify himself being there. It had one advantage, however, being in Hightown meant he had at least one regular visitor. Alexei Hawke stopped by usually once a day, unless he had business outside of the city. Their conversations were often brief, and carried little substance, like ‘ _yes, there were a large number of Tal-Vashoth on the Wounded Coast today,_ ’ and ‘ _Aveline has a very strong fighting arm.’_ Nothing Fenris truly wanted to speak of, but it was enough to keep him content. He and Hawke had been developing a friendship inch by inch for three whole years, there was no need for Fenris to ruin it by throwing romantic feelings into the mix. It was unlikely Hawke would appreciate the affections of an ex-slave; although he was a kind man, he was also one of high standards… or so Fenris imagined, he had yet to see Hawke attempt to court anyone.

Fenris sighed, filled with the sudden compulsion to seek company. He wanted to find Hawke, and take comfort in his arms, but that was not an option. Slipping an extra blade into his boot, he made way for The Hanged Man; if he could not have Hawke, he could at least have wine.

* * *

 

As he arrived, he found Varric in the midst of telling an elaborate tale of how they had slain a dragon single-handedly on top of a mountain home to The Urn of Sacred Ashes. When he spotted Fenris, he quickly wrapped up his story, leaving the small crowd slightly disappointed.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite angst-ridden elf. Come for a drink?”

“Good-evening, Dwarf. Of course I’ve come for a drink, what else would you expect me to be doing here?” Fenris smirked, taking the seat opposite from him.

“Seeking a tavern-wench with a nice rack to share your bed?”

Fenris chuckled in slight amusement, “A nice rack, eh? I’m afraid that’s not my preference, I’d be much more likely to pursue you – although I can’t say I much favour short men either.”

“For a second, I was almost flattered. Can’t say I didn’t see it coming though, even a fool could see you only have eyes for Hawke.” Varric chuckled to himself, draining the last of his mug and signalling the bar servant for two more.

“I don’t--”

“Lying isn’t a healthy habit,” Varric told him.

Fenris snapped his mouth shut, crossing his arms defensively. “There is nothing going on between me and Hawke.”

“But you wish something _was_ going on, don’t you?”

“That is irrelevant, Varric.”

“Okay, okay, I get the picture. Although maybe you should stop blushing so much, seeing at Hawke just walked in and he might be able to guess what you’re so embarrassed about…”

Fenris spun around to see Hawke approaching them, Isabela hot on his heels brushing his arm seductively. Fenris tried (and failed) not to glare at her as she gave Hawke sultry looks through her long, dark lashes.

“Well, if it isn’t the man of the hour,” Varric clapped his hands theatrically, “why do you always show up just as we start talking behind you back.”

Hawke sat down next to Fenris, their shoulders brushing together briefly; Hawke leaned away, however, and Fenris quickly realised it was the spikes on his armour. He cursed himself silently, Varric was very correct about him being prickly.

“Good things, I hope?”

“Not as good as the sweet nothings Isabela whispers in your ear; but there may have been talk of how handsome and amazing you are.”

Isabela leaned forward, allowing her breasts to near fall out of her clothes, Fenris cringed. “I wish,” she joked, “I haven’t yet managed to seduce him yet, but I’ll get there.”

Hawke simply laughed, and Fenris found himself wanting him to give another reaction; he wanted Hawke to tell her that they would never be together. It was ridiculous really, Isabela was no threat, all she wanted was sex… Fenris wanted more.

“You might have to fight Fenris for the chance,” Varric chuckled.

Fenris glared at him, eyes narrowing dangerously. The dwarf did not seem afraid in the slightest.

“Oh really?” Hawke said in surprise, looking at Fenris.

“No.” Fenris growled, abruptly standing up to take his leave. He hesitated, realising if he left he would look guilty of Varric’s accusation. “Drinks?” he asked, opting to head to the bar rather than leave the establishment.

Isabela giggled, “I thought you had a crush on me!” she said in mock-horror.

Fenris huffed, “Enough.”

“So, Hawke, whadd’ya think, Isabela of Fenris?” Varric joked.

To everyone’s surprise, Hawke blushed furiously. “Well, I, erm… men have always been my preference, so…”

Isabela winked at him seductively, “Not after spending a night with me,” she purred.

Fenris made his escape to the bar. He needed wine, and a lot of it if Varric was going to insist with the subject of romance. Learning that Hawke liked men was an interesting development, of course, but ‘men’ didn’t mean _him_. Male elves were usually considered an entirely different perversion from liking men, elves were thought to be so much more feminine than humans or dwarves. It was unlikely that Hawke was interested in him.

By the time he’d made his way back over, more from their party had arrived.

Anders had stolen his seat next to Hawke, stupid mage. It hurt to think that there was a chance he and Hawke would get together, that Hawke wanted to be in the arms of a filthy apostate, rather than an ex-slave. Fenris took a moment to remind himself that Hawke was also an apostate, not that he was anything like Anders… although he probably sympathised with Anders because of it. Fenris wondered if that would make it more or less likely for them to get together.

Merrill and Aveline had joined them too, they were chatting with Varric. Fenris took his place next to Aveline, out of all of them he liked her and Varric the most – not that he was liking Varric all that much right now.

“Shall we play a game?” Varric asked Hawke with a sly smile.

“Wicked Grace? Are you sure? You really want Fenris to take all our coin…” Hawke laughed. Fenris felt himself swell with pride, if only for a moment.

“No, no, no,” Isabela insisted, “let’s play a drinking game. Oh, let’s play truth or dare!”

“Let’s not,” Fenris groaned, shooting her a glare (possibly for the twentieth time that night.)

Hawke spoke up, “I like that idea. There’s a version of that game we used to play in Fereldan – _Never Have I Ever_.”

“I remember that, we used to play it in The Circle,” Anders grinned.

“How do you play?” Merrill asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Well, the idea is you say a statement that isn’t true about you, for example, “never have I ever been to Antiva” but anyone who that statement _is_ true for must take a drink. Isabela have been to Antiva, so she would take a drink.” Hawke explained, with a lopsided smile and it was clearly a game from his youth he was quite fond of.

“This is **not** a game I remember fondly,” Aveline sighed.

“I don’t exactly see the point,” Fenris nodded in agreement with her reluctance.

Anders dismissed them, “It’s fun! I’ll start – never have I ever had sex with a dwarf.”

Varric laughed jovially, taking a long swig from his mug. Fenris was not surprised to find Isabela taking a drink too. Hawke and the others did not.

“Isabela!” Anders scoffed, “It was Varric, wasn’t it? I just knew, the chest hair drew you in…”

Isabela winked, “I’ll never tell.”

“Varric?”

“The amount of times I’ve been black-out drunk here, we could have many times over and I would never know,” he said with a shrug. “Is it my turn then? Never have I ever had sex with an elf…”

Isabela was drinking again (of course), so was Merrill, as was _Anders_! Aveline and Fenris himself refrained from doing so. And Hawke… Hawke was drinking too. Fenris wondered, he preferred men, and had slept with elves, perhaps male elves? Maybe he was far more to Hawke’s liking than he’d thought.

“Fenris?” Merrill queried, “You’ve never been with an elf?”

Instantly his hate for blood mages ten-folded, and he glared at her deeply, “No. I have not _._ ” he growled.

“Why?” she asked in her annoyingly cheery voice, cocking her head with curiosity. Like a dog.

Thankfully, Hawke interrupted. “Merrill, we’ve spoken about asking inappropriate questions,” he warned her, tone strict but still kind.

“Oh, right. I’m sorry Fenris,” she bowed her head.

“It’s fine, Blood Mage. In truth, I have not been with anyone, elf or otherwise, _willingly_.” he told her bitterly.

The soft little ‘oh’ that came out of Merrill’s mouth had Fenris near recoiling in shame. Her big, green eyes pierced him with their concern, as her soft slender hand reached out for him. Fenris could feel his companion’s eyes on him, he could feel _Hawke’s_ eyes on him. He sighed deeply, taking Merrill’s hand and giving it a soft squeeze before letting go.

“We will not dwell on such things,” he informed her, removing the harshness from his tone, “not tonight. I shall like a go of this game.”

The tension of the table dissipated at his words, and Merrill gave him a kind nod.

Fenris continued, “Never have I ever stolen a sum of more than four-hundred gold.”

“Well, _fuck_!” Isabela swore, taking yet another drink.

The group continued this way into the late evening. Playing different games of varying stakes. Fenris won several rounds of Wicked Grace, doubling Anders’ already hefty debt to him. The confession he made to Merrill was happily forgotten by his friends, for they all knew how little he wished to talk about the subject. He had inferred in the past that he was more than a mere body-guard to Danarius, but never had he put it so plainly.

Again his mind wandered to Hawke, and his feelings on the subject. Perhaps he was even less likely to want to be with him now. Maybe the mage would assume he had no desire engage in that kind of activity due to his past experiences. It could be that he simply didn’t want someone who had once been little more than a sex-slave for a Tevintan Magister.

At the end of the night, Fenris found himself walking home with Hawke in companionable silence. It wasn’t much of a habit of theirs, they usually left The Hanged Man at different points in the evening. Hawke often returned home earlier, afraid of worrying his mother too much. Fenris had no one to worry for him, so he drank well into the early hours of the morning.

“Do you want to be with someone?” Hawke broke the silence, his curious words echoing between them.

“Huh?”

Hawke gave him a tight-lipped smile, “Before, when you mentioned… I was just wondering if you even wanted a romantic partner. Or a sexual one. I assume you remain alone by choice, but do you think you _could_ be with someone?”

Fenris mulled over the question for a minute, trying to think of an answer that would not reveal his feelings. “It’s not something that I do not want,” he shrugged, “I’ve had other priorities for many years, and no real desire for anything meaningless, but being with someone is not something I am opposed to.”

Hawke grinned, “That’s great! Uh, I mean… good. That’s good for you- you, er, anyone in mind right now?” he seemed to be stumbling over his words in the most peculiar way.

“Why are you asking?” Fenris pressed, trying to find a way to avoid the question.

Hawke blushed furiously, “Well, I was thinking, and I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but… I was thinking maybe _we_ could, um-” the look Fenris was giving him must have been very alarming, because Hawke immediately changed his mind, “-no, sorry. I’m sorry. This is inappropriate, I’ll stop.”

It took a long moment for Fenris’ wine-addled brain to find a response, “Alexei Hawke you devilish bastard. How long!?”

“I said I was sorry, we can just forget-”

“How long!?” Fenris demanded, again.

“I’ve always been attracted to you, but recently I’ve been thinking about you all the time and- please don’t rip out my heart!”

Fenris growled, grabbing Hawke by the shoulders and pulling him in a ferocious kiss. “Foolish Mage,” he muttered against his lips, diving in to taste Hawke’s tongue. It wasn’t long before Hawke began to respond. Fenris felt weak in Hawke’s arms as the mage kissed him feverishly. His hot, wet mouth claimed Fenris’ own, leaving him trembling. If it were anyone else, he would hate this. Yet, even the lyrium engravings, which were usually painful to be touched, flickered with resounding pleasure underneath Hawke’s hands.

Fenris pulled back for just a moment, “I suppose you’re cute,” he decided, running the underside of his palms along Hawke’s scratchy beard, “we’ll have to trim this, though.”

“Never, not even for you,” Hawke chuckled.

Fenris kissed him again, “You would do it.”

“Yeah… I know.”


End file.
